


Apologies

by BananaLoaf



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 17:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1313080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaLoaf/pseuds/BananaLoaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porthos is feeling a little down after their adventure with Bonnaire. He gets a visit and an apology from a fellow Musketeer. <br/>A little one-shot set after episode 3. Hints of Athos/D'Art :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I would post my other Musketeers story while I was here. Let me know what you think! :)

A quiet but firm knock on the door to his rooms dragged Porthos from his place in his bed to see who would be bothering him at this hour. He wasn’t really in the mood.

He had been brooding for the best part of a week, ever since their mission with Bonnaire, when the thoughts of slavery and the memories of his mother had been brought to the forefront of his mind. He had lost his mother 7 years ago, but the emotions around their mission with the slave trader brought his grief back. His mother had been a strong, beautiful woman, but he could always notice the nights when she would be haunted by her knowledge of slave trading, and the full horror of her past.

He had tried going drinking with his friends, but they were all being tense and strange, for a variety of reasons, and he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with that. He went to work with them during the day, but at night he came back to his room and drank himself to sleep. He’d have to be careful he didn’t turn into Athos.

Porthos pulled his door open with a growl, hoping whoever was on the other side would realise quickly that he wasn’t in the mood for company. He was surprised to find his leader, and the resident brooder of their group, standing on the other side, hat in hand, smiling gently at him.

“Athos?”

“Porthos.” He nodded back at him. “Can I can come in?”

Porthos pulled the door wider and stepped back into the room. Athos followed quietly, moving to a chair he spotted in the corner of the room. Porthos sat on the edge of the bed.  
“Something wrong Athos?”

Athos sat with his elbows on his knees, hat dangling between his hands. He sighed quietly to himself, before lifting his head to look at the big man who was one of his closest allies.

“I just wanted to check on you. We haven’t seen you much since Bonnaire, and we ‘re all a bit concerned.”

Porthos chuckled without mirth. “You drew the short straw did you?”

“What? No! The others don’t know I’m here.” 

Porthos snorted at Athos’ reply. “D’Artagnan will know you’re here. That boy hasn’t left your shadow since we returned, I’m quite sure.”

Athos smiled a little sheepishly, a smile that quickly faded as he came to the point of his visit.

“I thought it might be my fault you were staying away, so I came to explain myself.”

“Your fault?” Porthos was genuinely confused. “Because you stopped me from beating that arsehole to a pulp, and getting myself in trouble? I don’t think so. You were right, we had a job to do, as much as I may not have liked it. Anyway, he wasn’t worth the trouble.”

“No, I didn’t mean that. I’m talking about slightly earlier on our, um, trip.”

“Earlier?”

Athos stood up and began pacing the room, clearly agitated by the realisation that Porthos had no idea what he was talking about. “Earlier. When you were injured, and I let my selfishness get in the way of saving you.”

Porthos said nothing and just looked at his friend in confusion. He sat and waited for him to speak.

“I assume then that you don’t remember what happened after you were cut down?”

“Not really, no. Other than a lot of groaning and agony, I didn’t really pay much attention to anything else.” Porthos couldn’t keep a touch of sarcasm out of his voice.

Now it was Athos how looked confused. “But...then why have you been avoiding us?”

Porthos rose from the bed and reached for the jug of wine on the small table next to it, pouring himself a glass and offering one to Athos. “I was feeling a bit down is all. Thinking about my mother, you know?” Athos nodded. “Anyway, after the first night with you three sitting there tense as a virgin in a brothel I figured you weren’t the best company for me right now.”

“Ah. Well, that might be my fault too.”

“You’re going to have to come to some kind of point here Athos; I’m not quite getting what you’re trying to tell me.”

“Alright, alright. Well, after you were injured Aramis said you needed treatment quickly. He wanted to take you somewhere straight away, and I, well I wanted to keep going.” Athos ducked his head in shame, draining his glass of wine before sitting back down in the chair he had abandoned and rolling the empty glass between his hands.

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. We went to your house did we not?”

Athos sighed heavily, forcing himself to look his friend in the eye. “Yes we did, but I didn’t admit straight away that it was nearby, that we could take you there to fix you. You may have noticed that I got no pleasure from returning there, and well, I just forgot myself in that moment and put my own fears before your safety. I have no valid excuses my friend, but I am truly sorry.”

“What changed your mind?” Porthos asked the question quietly, his face showing no anger at what he had just been told.

“Aramis reminded me that I care about you.”

Porthos grinned suddenly, suprising Athos with the warmth in his face. “There you are then!”

“But...what? I nearly let you die Porthos!”

“No, you didn’t. You would have come to your senses, I know you Athos. Whatever was bothering you clouded your judgement, but you would never have let me die. There’s nothing to forgive, my dear friend. You have my trust, and my forgiveness if that’s what you are seeking.” Porthos walked over to the other musketeer, clasped him by the hand and pulled him into a brief hug. Pushing the smaller man away he looked him squarely on. “I don’t suppose you want to talk about why you were so desperate to stay away from there?”

Athos shook his head quickly. He was not ready for that, and not sure he ever would be. D’Artagnan knew the truth of his past, and that was more than enough for now. Porthos shrugged and stepped back, taking his place sitting on the edge of the bed once more. “So you think this is why Aramis has been in a bad mood?”

“I imagine so. He wasn’t overly pleased with me after all.”

“It’s not like him to hold a grudge though is it? Speak to him. I’m pretty sure he’s just been concerned about you. He keeps asking D’Artagnan about you.”

“Concerned for me?” Athos’ second question was sharper. “What’s he been asking D’Artagnan?”

“Nothing specific, calm down. He’s just asking that you’re ok, is all. We both know something happened back there, you were even more sullen when we came back than normal.” Porthos grinned. “And of course D’Artagnan’s been following you around like a puppy since we got back, so obviously something happened. “ The big musketeer grew serious. “But you know we would never betray your trust, and nor would the boy. He has said nothing, at all. You don’t have to tell us anything Athos, but just tell Aramis that you are alright and he’ll loosen up a little. I’m quite sure.”

Athos smiled at his friend, grateful that he wasn’t being pushed into talking. “I’m ashamed of myself, I should’ve known that Aramis would not be holding a grudge.”

“Any excuse for blaming yourself eh?” Porthos grinned at him, before raising his glass to him and draining the remainder of his wine. Athos smiled wryly back at him.

“So you’ll join us for a drink tomorrow?”

“I suppose I better, I don’t want Aramis turning up at my door to grovel, and D’Artagnan the next night.”

Athos raised one eyebrow. “I don’t think I have ever grovelled in my life Porthos.”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxx

Athos was smiling to himself as he left Porthos to his rest. He pulled the front door of the building and paused to breathe a sigh of relief. He was glad he had decided to come and speak to his friend, and was hopeful that normality would resume the following day, once he had endeavoured to demonstrate to Aramis that he was doing fine. He also had to speak to a certain young Garcon about these shadow tendencies he had developed in recent days. Speaking of which...

“D’Artagnan? Come here please.” Athos called over to the shadows of an alley across from Porthos’ door. The man in question appeared quietly out of the darkness, a sheepish look on his face.

“Athos.”

The older man tried to ignore the warmth that spread through his chest at the sight of his friend appearing before him, smiling hopefully at him. He had known that D’Artagnan was following him around, of course, and he had noticed instantly his reluctance to leave his side when they were at work, at the barracks or beyond it. He was glad of it. He couldn’t deny that it felt good to have someone care so much about him, to have someone watch over him. But he didn’t want the man putting himself at risk just for him.

“You’ve been shadowing me boy.”

D’Artagnan let his full Gascon stubbornness come out in the jutting of his chin and the crossing of his arms. “What if I have, sir?” Sarcasm dripped from the last word.

Athos suppressed a smile. “Did I ask you to? I don’t need protecting.”

“Yes you do.”

“I’m sorry?”

D’Artagnan crossed the street until he was standing directly in front of Athos. “Yes, you do! You’ve been moodier and quieter than normal, drinking even more if that’s possible. How could I forgive myself if you got attacked when you staggered home? If you got so drunk you fell in a ditch and choked on your own vomit? I already nearly missed saving you once; I don’t want to have to do that again.”

Athos was surprised to see the boy’s eyes brimming with defiant tears. He really had been a selfish arse. “You have my apologies, friend. I promise that I will take better care, will that do?”

His answer was an angry shrug. “I’ll keep following until I see that for myself thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Athos sighed. He turned and began walking down the street, D’Artagnan instantly at his side.

“I just don’t understand,” the boy spoke quietly.

“What?” Athos’ reply was gruff.

“How after everything you told me happened, you can still love her.” D’Artagnan looked warily out the corner of his eye at Athos as they walked, hoping he hadn’t crossed a line. He was surprised to get an immediate answer.

“It’s not love that haunts me D’Artagnan, it’s guilt.”

“But, if you don’t love her, how can you feel guilty for what you did? She killed your brother!”

“I am aware of that,” Athos spoke drily. “That is part of my guilt. I was the one who brought her to our home, who brought her into his path. If I had been able to see past her games he would still be here.” He stopped walking when he felt D’Artagnan’s hand on his arm.

“You cannot possibly blame yourself for her deeds Athos. She is the killer, not you.”

They began walking again, D’Artagnan inching closer to Athos’ side than before, as if his presence could shield his friend from the hurt he had hear in his voice. Their silence lasted for a few minutes.

“I still don’t understand.”

Athos stopped again, sighing wearily. He waited for his companion to stop and face him, then gave him a questioning look. 

“Well, if you don’t still carry around feelings of love for your wife, then why have you not attempted to move on? In five years?”

Athos smiled at his friend, although D’Artagnan could see the despair behind it. “How could I ever let myself be in that position again? How could I trust that I had not been taken in? That any relationship I had would not result in another tragedy? In the loss of another person I cared about?”

D’Artagnan gaped at him. “You mean you assume that it could happen again? You really think that if you let yourself love again then people will die?” Athos shrugged. “No, I don’t think that’s the whole reason. I think you are punishing yourself for what happened, and you won’t allow yourself to move on.”

“I deserve to be unhappy.”

A small step brought the men closely face to face. “No, you don’t.”

Athos gazed into D’Artagnan’s face for a moment, trying to read the swirl of emotions that played across his eyes. He could see determination, sadness, with a hint of something...hope? He smiled back at him, nodding and turning away to continue their journey.

“Maybe you should just fall for someone you know and trust already. If you feel that you’d like to move on with your life, I mean.”

Athos grinned at the purposefully nonchalant tone of the young man’s voice. Deceptively casual, as usual.

“Perhaps.”

D’Artagnan replied with a grin of his own, that stayed on his face as the two men continued their journey in silence.


End file.
